


Of Coffee and Comics

by reclusiveq



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, Conventions, Costumes, Deaf Clint Barton, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Physical Disability, Snark, mention of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 05:06:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2256915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reclusiveq/pseuds/reclusiveq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite being the creator of the very popular comic Not Without You, Steve is virtually unknown in the comic world. Now he wants to make a debut appearance of his new series without worrying that its popularity will be reflected by his first series. When Steve decides to attend his first convention as a vendor in Artist Alley, he's only expecting to promote that new comic. What he wasn't expecting was to run into a fan of Not Without You and fall head over heels for him. But Bucky Barnes is already in love with someone else... the anonymous creator of Not Without You!</p><p>Steve can't tell him the truth, but that doesn't stop him from wanting to win Bucky's affections.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Steve stood at his booth, fussing with the table, trying to make sure everything looked nice before the crowd filtered in. Clint wasn’t being much help, flipping through Steve’s latest comic, his hearing aid laying abandoned next to a stack of prints. Clint had removed it after getting tired of listening to Steve fret over product placement.

It was Steve’s first time coming to an event like this, either as a guest or as an artist, and he wanted to make sure everything was perfect. Usually he was too busy trying to meet deadlines, and he preferred not to make public appearances anyway, despite how popular his first comic series had turned out to be. There had been so many issues prior to that first release, just trying to find a publisher to take him seriously despite his health and appearance. When he’d finally found someone willing to give him a chance, Steve had chosen to stay anonymous to the world, wanting the success of his series to be from the story and not who he was.

But with a new series coming out, Steve had decided to see if he could he could sell it under his own name. His editor had told him he was being stupid. _Every artist does it,_ Steve had been told. _There’s no shame in using your popularity to sell a new style._ Of course his editor had also told him it would be a career suicide to promote a new style at all, no matter how good it was. He’d only backed down after Steve had pointed out that by publishing the new style under his real name, he was actually protecting himself. If the new series was a flop, then no one would connect the failed artist of End of the Line to the popular artist of Not Without You.

A low rumble alerted Steve that the doors were opening for the first group. VIPs or something; Steve hadn’t been able to keep track of all the details of the con, but he remembered that some people got to come in earlier than others. Sitting down, Steve elbowed Clint, who quickly stuck his hearing aid back in, winced, then adjusted the volume on it. 

“Good god, is that people or a herd of cattle?” Clint asked, peering over at the open aisle.

“Good question,” Steve answered, smiling a bit. “We’ll find out soon.” As people began to meander into the Artist’s Alley, Steve felt his stomach tighten again. There were so many people. Steve could barely count them. “This is just the first group?” He looked at Clint, bewildered. 

Clint chuckled. “This is nothing,” he said. “You’ll see all kinds and by the end of the day, you’ll be wishing you’d stayed home.”

“I’m already wishing I’d stayed home, and you’re not helping.” Steve fiddled with a shield charm he kept on his keychain - a gift from a good friend and former lover - trying to keep himself from being too anxious. He was amazed by the costumes he saw as people walked by. Some people had put a lot of thought into them, others seemed pieced together, but Steve could tell they’d done their best. It was amazing how creative people were with what they had and, to him, all of the costumes looked great.

A few people came up to look through his art but Steve didn’t make any sales that first hour. “Don’t worry,” Clint said, leaning over after another attendee wandered off with a business card. “Hardly anyone buys stuff the first day. They like to shop around a bit first. You might make one or two sales, but don’t get discouraged. At least not until the convention is over and you’re stuck lugging all this back to your apartment.”

“Thanks,” Steve said drily, giving him a look. Clint could be absolutely helpful most of the time, but this wasn’t one of those times. Steve had dragged him out of bed too early and there hadn’t been time for breakfast. “Look, I know you’re shit without your coffee, so why don’t you go get some?”

“At convention prices?” Clint said, looking at Steve in horror. “Hell no. A single coffee here would cost me my entire budget for the weekend.” 

Steve pulled a five out of his wallet. “Here. Take that and go away until you’re more human.”

Clint grabbed the money and was out of his chair before Steve could blink. “Since you insist. You want something?”

“No thanks. Just go,” Steve answered, shaking his head in amusement as Clint hurried off.

Steve turned back at the sound of laughter and found himself looking up at a gorgeous young man with shoulder-length brown hair wearing a costume from Not Without You. It was almost like seeing his character come to life. This man was perfectly suited for the cyborg warrior. “Wow,” Steve said, aware he was staring. Even the metal arm was perfect. “Is that… Did you make that yourself?”

The man looked to where Steve was gesturing, then grinned. “Not all by myself. I had help from a good friend. He’s a genius when it comes to wiring.”

“Wiring?” Steve glanced the arm over again. 

“Yeah, watch.” The young man pressed a button on the metal arm and blue LEDs suddenly lit up in the joints. 

Steve stood to get a closer look. “Oh my god, that’s amazing. It’s exactly how I pictured it,” he said without thinking, causing a wide grin to break out on the other man’s face.

“You’re a fan then? I’m Bucky, by the way.” He held out his right hand and Steve shook it firmly, amused by the assumption. If Bucky only knew the truth… But Steve wasn’t about to give away his biggest secret.

“Steve. And I gotta say, yours is the best costume I’ve seen.”

“Oh god, you must have seen better.”

“Nope, but this is my first convention, so I’ve got a few days to alter that assessment.” Steve grinned.

“No kidding. And you’re selling art your first time? Is this all your art then?” Bucky opened one of the binders filled with art.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve been drawing a while, but one of my friends recommended I come here to try and promote my new series.” Steve held out the thin volume and Bucky took it, opening it up.

“This is pretty good. I really like the style," Bucky said. He set the book back down and Steve bit back the initial disappointment that Bucky had handed it back so quickly, barely lingering over the pages. "I haven’t really been a fan of comics long myself," Bucky continued. "Not Without You was the first comic I really got into, thanks to the same friend who helped me with this arm. I guess I just related to the main character really well."

“Oh? How so?” Steve leaned back, his previous disappointment already gone as he found himself watching Bucky’s lips, only half paying attention to what Bucky was saying. There was a slight curl at the edges of his mouth, turned upward into a cheshire-esque smile. They were very distracting and he forced himself to focus on the words coming from them before he got too distracted.

“...and I made the decision to find him and ask him out,” Bucky finished. His eyes had lit up while talking, but now there was a hint of embarrassment behind his eyelashes.

Steve was confused, working through the bits he’d caught of Bucky’s story. “Ask… the artist of Not Without You out? Like on a date?”

Bucky’s eyes went wide as he realised what he’d said. “I mean,” he said, shifting nervously suddenly. “Maybe not on a _date_ date. I mean, I like the guy, but I don’t know if he… God, you must think I’m a freak now. I’ve just been going on about him and you’re here trying to sell your own series.”

Steve chuckled. “It’s okay, really. But how would you find him? I mean, the guy doesn’t do any shows or anything. For all you know, he could have… I don’t know, three heads or something.”

Bucky laughed. “That’s true, but… Well, I at least like his style. I mean, you can’t really write people like he does if you don’t understand them. I think he’d like his fans if he gave them a chance.”

 _Well, I’m already starting to like you,_ Steve thought. Out loud, he joked, “I’m sure he’s got a great personality.”

Bucky grinned at him. “You think he probably looks like a dog.” 

“Possibly,” Steve smiled back. He liked the way Bucky smiled, and his laughter had been brilliant. He wanted to keep Bucky here and talking, but a couple of girls interrupted. 

“Sorry, can I get your picture?” They asked Bucky. 

He smiled at them indulgently, but Steve thought he looked rather pleased. While he was posing for the picture, an older man started asking Steve about his series, and after that Steve found himself pretty busy as the next wave of attendees flooded into the hall. By the time Steve had a chance to breathe again, Bucky was no longer in sight.

By the end of the day, Steve was feeling exhausted. Despite Clint’s guess that Steve wouldn’t get much business the first day, a lot of prints still sold and Steve decided to take Clint out for dinner as thanks for the help. His mind was elsewhere during dinner though. Clint finally snapped his fingers at Steve. 

“Geez, Steve. I’m deaf, but _you’re_ the one who hasn’t heard a word I’ve said all evening.”

Steve blushed and set his burger down. “Sorry, Clint. What were you saying?”

“Who is she? Or he. I know you swing both ways.”

Steve sighed. “His name is Bucky. And I only just met him today, but… I dunno.”

“He’s gorgeous?” Clint smirked. “Well, you always had an eye for the pretty ones.”

Steve’s blush deepened. “I can’t help it if I’ve got an eye for aesthetics. I’m an artist. But yes, he is, and he’s interesting and funny and…”

“Oh, so it’s the guy I saw you talking with? The one cosplaying your character. He was cute, but I don’t know about gorgeous.”

“You saw him?”

“Coming back from coffee.” Clint smiled. “I only spotted him for a moment, He was already getting pulled away by then. So I take it the fact that he was dressed as Winter Soldier has nothing to do with your attraction?”

Steve grabbed one of his fries and focused on eating it. Clint was one of the few people who knew the inspiration for that character. “Absolutely nothing,” he said. “Not that it matters anyway. He’s not really interested in me. He’s interested in the anonymous artist of Not Without You.”

“Uh, Steve. That is you,” Clint pointed out.

“Yes, and if I’d told him that, it would have been bad. He tells me he’s into that guy, I tell him that’s who I am, what would he think?”

Clint leaned back. “Point taken. He might think you were just saying that to make him like you. But you’d have proof.”

“Yeah, but even that sounds a bit like I’m trying to… I don’t know. You know what I mean. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. He walked away and like an idiot, I didn’t get his number or a picture or anything.” Steve picked up another fry and jabbed it into the pile of ketchup, frustrated.

“You never know. He’s got the V.I.P. pass, right? I mean, he was in before the others, so he’ll probably be around all weekend.”

“Yeah, but it’s a big convention. I don’t even know if he liked my stuff I have here. He didn’t look at it very much. So he may not come back by my table.”

Clint threw one of his own fries at Steve. “You’re worrying again. Stop it. Instead of worrying that he won’t show up again, which, frankly, wouldn’t be the end of the world, why don’t you worry about what you’ll say to him if he does. Ask him out for dinner. Find out if he’s local. Get his picture. You know he likes Not Without You. You can actually bond over that. Make him look at you.”

“You telling me to seduce him?” Steve joked, smiling finally.

Clint smiled back. “If that’s what it takes. I know you’re hopeless at flirting though, so if you need pointers, I can always help.”

“Yeah, you can just sit there while I’m talking and tell me what to say. That’ll look really good.”

//Not tell. Sign.// Clint’s fingers flew through the words and Steve was glad he’d decided to take that American Sign Language class. He’d learned it for Clint, but it had come in handy a lot.

//This would only work if he doesn’t know sign,// Steve signed back.

//True. But if he doesn’t, then I can tell you...// 

Steve blushed and grabbed Clint’s hands, stopping the string of near straight pornography that Clint was signing. “Do _not_ sign that in front of him,” Steve said out loud.

Clint was laughing hard, drawing attention from the other diners. “Okay, okay,” he panted in between laughter. “I won’t sign that in front of him.”


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky got home and collapsed onto the couch. It had been a long and disappointing day at the convention, and his shoulder and side ached, mostly from carrying around the costumed arm all day. His roommate and best friend Tony came out of the kitchen, beer in hand, and eyed him shrewdly. “Didn’t find him?”

“No. Are you sure your source was right? That C.A. would be at this convention?”

“Natasha is always right. Even when she’s not. But I think she was right on this. Come on, robocop. This guy has never shown his face before. How would you know it was him even _if_ you saw him?”

“I don’t know. I figured I’d just… _know_. I should know better than to trust in fate though. Here, help me with this arm. You’ll be happy to know that everyone loved it. They all wanted to know how I got it to look so realistic.” Bucky grinned at his friend and stood, turning so Tony help.

His grin dropped a fraction as Tony undid the wires and a couple of screws to remove the top layer. Under it was a far less sophisticated looking prosthetic, a remnant of an accident from when he was barely a teenager. His entire arm was gone, and most of his shoulder as well. The real prosthetic, made of ugly beige plastics, replaced the shoulder and arm, and was several years old now. He could do somethings with it, but there was a lot he would never be able to do with this sort of arm. He’d outgrown it now and it was causing him no small amount of pain. 

Soon, though, Bucky would be replacing it with a state of the art arm designed by Tony’s own father; something far more sophisticated, precise, and lightweight. The new arm would be hooked directly into Bucky’s nervous system. It was still experimental, but the few test subjects who had tried it had responded well to it. Bucky was next. He’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t scared, but he was also excited.

But he’d be recovering for a long time and that’s why he really wanted to meet that artist. There was no name on the cover of the comics. Just initials. C.A. A pseudonym. But the main character of the comic, a man who had lost his arm trying to protect the woman he loved and still found a place where he could be useful, had reminded Bucky so much of himself that reading it had brought Bucky out of the depression he’d landed in after he left the hospital. Those first few years had been miserable for Bucky.

“Look, Bucky,” Tony said. He handed Bucky his beer, then picked up the metal arm to fiddle with it a bit. Bucky flopped back down onto the couch, wincing a bit as his bad side hit the back of the couch. “You’ll find him. But even if you don’t, you’re having fun this weekend and that’s what matters. Did you meet anyone else interesting? Maybe someone with a cooler costume? Let me know if you met someone with a cooler costume cause I’m going to have to fix yours if that’s the case. No one is allowed a cooler costume than yours.”

Bucky laughed. “Well lots of people had awesome costumes, but I think ours was the best. I did get to talk to an artist there for a while. He was pretty cool. And handsome.” Bucky smiled, remembering the way Steve’s bright blue eyes lit up as he listened to Bucky talk. “Ah, shit,” Bucky cursed suddenly, slapping his forehead.

“What?” Tony set the costume arm down gently, satisfied that everything was still working properly on it, and gave Bucky an odd look.

“I was going to buy something from him and I got swept up in everything. Shit.” Bucky felt like kicking himself. He’d taken up so much of Steve’s time and hadn’t even bothered to buy anything.

“Well, it’s not like you can’t go back tomorrow,” Tony said. “Now, you said gorgeous, so I’m going to need details.” He shoved Bucky over and stole his beer back. 

Bucky chuckled. One of the things he liked about Tony was that he’d never treated Bucky as different just because he was missing an arm. “I said handsome, but same thing. Tall, blond haired, blue eyed. Shoulder to waist ratio of a dorito.”

“Hmm. Sounds boring to me,” Tony grumbled, though Bucky could see he was please by the mental image. “Boring and typical.”

Bucky laughed harder. “Maybe I like boring.”

“No, you don’t. You like mysterious and exciting. That’s why we’re friends.” Tony reached around to the floor and grabbed a half-eaten bag of chips, shoving a handful into his mouth at once.

“Who says we’re friends?” Bucky teased. “I tolerate you.”

“Oh, I am wounded,” Tony said. At least that’s what Bucky guessed he’d said around the mouthful of chips. “See if I share my beer with you again.”

“All right, I take it back. We’re besties. But I still found this guy interesting. If nothing else, this will still be a killer weekend before my surgery.” Bucky looked at his prosthetic again and sighed. “Soon I’ll have some real movement in this hand again.”

Tony handed the beer back. “Yeah, you will. And you’ll still be you.”

Bucky smiled at him. “Thanks.”

~~~  
The next day, Bucky went back to the con, in full costume again. The last convention he’d gone to, he hadn’t dressed up at all and the stares had been so bad that he hadn’t gone back. This time, he was still stared at, but for an entirely different reason. Everyone loved the costume. He hadn’t been exaggerating about that. 

Still, he had only returned this time because of the rumor Natasha had passed along to Tony. Natasha worked in marketing and she had worked on some of the campaign for Not Without You. Tony had said he trusted her, and Bucky had to as well. If anyone would know, she would.

Bucky visited a few panels before ending up back at the Dealer’s Hall. He found himself heading back towards Artist’s Alley, though it took forever to get there, since everyone kept stopping him for a picture. He finally made it back to Steve’s booth, just to find that Steve wasn’t there at all.

The guy in his place had messy dark blond hair, except for his bangs which were a bright purple. He was flipping through a magazine and hadn’t looked up at all.

“Excuse me, is Steve here?” Bucky asked, looking around for him. When he received no response, he looked back at the guy and frowned. Was he ignoring him on purpose? Was this Steve’s boyfriend? Shit, what if it was? Bucky wondered why that even bothered him. No, who said Steve was even gay?

_Stop thinking about it, Barnes,_ Bucky chided himself. _This isn’t who you’re here for anyway. It’s just a distraction._

Bucky shifted and the guy jumped. Bucky saw him reach up to his ear and kicked himself. This guy was deaf. Or at least mostly deaf. He faced him so the guy would be able to follow what he was saying easier. “Sorry to startle you. Is Steve here?”

The other guy smiled. “Not at the moment. You must be Lucky,”

“What?” Bucky blinked, confused for a moment. “Oh. No. Bucky.”

“Oh, my bad. Naw, Steve is off hunting food, but he told me to keep you here if you showed back up. You don’t have anything pressing, do you?”

“Uh, no. Not really.” It was a bit like talking to Tony, except Tony was full of himself whereas this guy was just talkative. Bucky decided he liked him.

“My name’s Clint. I’m only here because Steve asked for my help. Probably best to not ask me about his art. All I could tell you about is prices.”

Bucky chuckled. “It’s okay. Although I did want to buy his book. Maybe you can sell me that while we wait.”

“Sure can. If you hang out long enough, I think he’ll even offer to sign it for you,” Clint said with a smile. He picked up one of the books just as Bucky was approached for a photo. When Bucky turned back around, Clint had the book ready. 

“Do you take cards?”

Clint looked around. “Uh, yeah. I think Steve left his reader here somewhere.” He handed the book to Bucky while he looked around for it. Bucky couldn’t help but smile, watching. He turned away and opened the book. The first thing he noticed was a phone number and Steve’s name scrawled in sloppy handwriting inside the front cover. Bucky looked back at Clint quickly, who had found the reader and was fumbling with his phone. “Here, we go. I think I got this thing working.”

With a grin, Bucky held out his card and Clint swiped it. “Does Steve write his number in all the books?” Bucky asked.

Clint smiled back innocently. “Just the ones for the people who catch his eye. Which isn’t many.”

“Many what?” Steve chose that time to get back, burdened with food. His eyes brightened when he saw Bucky. “Hey!” 

The way Steve’s face lit up to see him again made Bucky’s stomach flutter. How could Steve make him feel that way with just a look? “H-hey. I, uh… I bought your book.”

“Oh, great! I could sign it for you.” Steve smiled broadly and held out his hand. 

Bucky looked down at the book, realising that Steve might not be happy to see his number inside the cover. “Sure, but sign the cover for me.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Sorry I disappeared on you yesterday. Got caught up in everything.”

Steve took the book and grabbed a marker to sign it. “It’s fine. It’s a big convention. I’d guess it’s easy to get caught up in things.”

“Have you gotten to see anything yet?”

“I, uh…” Steve looked a bit embarrassed as he signed the cover.

“No,” Clint interrupted. “He hasn’t. This guy is a workaholic. Seriously. You need to just take him and...”

“Clint…” Steve interrupted before Clint could finish his sentence, causing Bucky to laugh a bit.

Bucky watched as Steve signed something to Clint, the look on his face exasperated. Clint just looked amused as he signed back. Bucky had no clue what they were saying, but he was impressed. The silent exchange of hand signals went on for less than five minutes before Steve turned back to Bucky.

“Sorry about that.” Steve finished signing the book and was starting to hand it back when his seat shifted slightly and he threw a glare to Clint, who had clearly given it a shove. Steve looked back at Bucky. “Do you want to get a coffee or dinner or something later? After the alley closes?”

Bucky took the book and smiled. He thought of what would happen when Steve saw the prosthetic and nearly refused the offer, but he knew he would regret it if he didn’t go. Taking a deep breath, Bucky nodded. “Okay. I’ll come back just before the hall closes. We can head out together?”

Steve smiled widely, the irritation gone. “Great. See you then.”

Bucky held the comic tightly as he left, smiling to himself. He wasn’t even sure _why_ he felt so happy, but the thought of meeting Steve for coffee had him almost giddy. Maybe because it had been so long since he'd had even a pretend date. If he’d been the sort to bounce, he might have bounced out of the hall. He wasn’t about to wear the costume to dinner, so he’d head home and have just enough time to change and get ready before coming back. His only concern about going out was Steve's eventual reaction to Bucky's arm, but it wasn't enough to dampen Bucky's excitement. 

At the stoplight, he stopped near a taller man holding a large prop weapon to text Tony. It would take him about forty five minutes to walk home, but Bucky was feeling too energetic to wait for a bus or taxi. He could catch one back. He was just going to need Tony's help getting ready. 

He was so distracted though that he had no time to react when the man with the prop turned and smacked him with it in his good arm. The man was sturdy enough that the action of turning was enough to knock Bucky’s phone from his hand and make Bucky fall over. Bucky tried to twist, but he was too off balance and hit his bad side hard. Pain shot through that side but Bucky managed not to cry out. 

Cursing, the man was immediately by his side, helping Bucky. “Oh my god, I am so sorry, I didn’t even see you there.” He paled when he saw the busted arm. “Shit, man. It’s not broken, is it?”

Bucky was in shock staring at his arm confused. Of _course_ it was broken, this arm Tony and he had put so much work into. It took him a full minute before he realised that the man was worried about Bucky’s _actual_ arm. Bucky started laughing. “No. Just the prop.”

The man looked relieved and helped Bucky back up. “Fuck, man. I’m sorry,” he apologized again.

“It’s okay,” Bucky said, looking for his phone. The guy spotted it first and handed it over. The screen was completely cracked and unreadable. Fuck, he should have gotten that case after all. “Thanks.” Bucky accepted the help up, ignoring the pain in his side. That arm wasn’t designed for these sorts of falls. 

“Let me pay for a cab for you,” the man offered. Bucky tried to tell him it was okay, but the guy was already flagging one down. Bucky had to admit he was impressed by how quickly he got one. Finding a cab in the middle of New York was no easy feat. The man helped him into the cab. “How much to…” He looked at Bucky. “Where you going?” 

Bucky told him and the cabby gave an estimate that sounded high in Bucky’s opinion, but he didn’t often catch taxis. The stranger paid and stepped back. “Hope you can fix that,” he shouted as the taxi pulled away.

Bucky leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. There was no way he could go out now, not like this. He'd have Tony text Steve for him. 

“You don’t need a hospital, do you?” the cabby asked. 

Bucky didn’t even crack an eye open. “No, that arm has been broken a long time,” he said wearily.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve watched the people eagerly as it got closer to closing time. Butterflies danced in his stomach and Clint wasn’t being very helpful. His outward demeanor hadn’t changed, but Steve could tell his buddy was exhausted and ready to go home. He owed Clint big time for helping.

Steve’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He almost didn’t check it. He was worried it would be Bucky calling to cancel. But wouldn’t it just be easier to not show up? Well, easier on Bucky anyway…

But Steve pulled his phone out anyway, then cursed. It was Sam, his editor. “Clint, sorry, I have to take this.”

Clint nodded and waved him off. Steve pressed the button to answer.

“Sam, what’s up?”

“Sorry to bug you, Steve. I know you said you’d be busy this weekend, but my people are in an uproar. We lost everything. Your comic was due to go to the printer tonight and I can’t even access my email to get it to them.”

“I could send it through a file transfer. Would that work?” Steve thought about his meeting Bucky for coffee. He could still make it.

“Is anything ever that easy? Remind me to complain about my week to you. Some goons attacked our servers and they’re still going at it, trying to steal information. We’ve shut everything down so no, a file transfer is a bad idea.”

There was something Sam was leaving out. Steve could hear what wasn’t being said. And it wasn’t the first time someone had tried a stunt like this to find out his identity. “Did they get much?”

“Still investigating. I’ll let you know. Anyway, I’m leaving DC now. Should be there in a few hours. I’ll need you to be ready.”

“You’re driving from DC?”

“Welcome to my life, Steve. I would drive halfway across the country to get those pages from you and get them to the printer in time. Thank god work pays for gas. I’ll text you when I’m closer.”

Steve hung up and tapped the phone to his chin, thinking. It would take Sam about four hours to get here, and that was if traffic was good. That meant it would be about ten before he got here, plenty of time for dinner with Bucky… if Bucky was on time. There was still half an hour before the hall closed.

His phone buzzed again, a text this time. Steve didn’t recognize the number and all the text said was _Bucky can’t make it to dinner. He said to tell you he’s sorry, but he’ll try to swing by your table tomorrow._

Steve looked at the message, worried. Maybe Bucky had changed his mind after all. He chewed his lip. He didn’t really understand why, but he definitely didn’t want to give up so easily. But if Bucky didn’t even want to text him himself…

A new message popped up from the same number. _He didn’t want me to tell you, but the idiot got himself hurt on the way home to change for your date. He’s fine, but he busted his arm and his phone and let me tell you, I put a lot of work into that arm._

That last comment surprised a laugh out of Steve. Clint came over to see what Steve was laughing at and grabbed the phone out of Steve’s hand. “Hey!” Steve shouted in protest, trying to snatch it back without destroying his table. Clint laughed as he danced out of the way, trying to send a reply back. People were staring and a pair of girls started giggling at the scene.

Steve finally managed to grab it, after upturning both their chairs and knocking over his container of prints that he kept behind the table. He looked at the reply Clint had started typing out. 

_Too bad… I could think of a better way to buszzzzzz_

Steve looked mortified. In their struggle, one of them had hit the Send button. He glared at Clint. “Great, now his friend is going to think I’m a maniac.”

“Or he’ll really like you,” Clint grinned as Steve quickly typed a response himself. 

_Sorry, my friend got a hold of my phone. Tell him I hope he gets better soon and I completely understand. We can meet some other time. If he wants. And sorry to hear about the arm. It really was a great costume piece._ Steve read over his text once, then a second time, before he pressed send. 

“So much for having fun tonight,” he said, looking at Clint. “Sam is coming over and Bucky’s hurt.”

Clint was grinning at him. “Well, look at the bright side. You can still have dinner with me.”

Steve laughed. “Thanks, Clint. But I know you want to get home. Why don’t you go ahead and take off? I can close up here.”

“You sure?” The humour left Clint’s face. Steve knew he was torn between staying and leaving. That was just the sort of guy Clint was. He’d complain, but he really liked helping people. He just needed to be able to unwind at the end of the day.

“I’m sure. Go on and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Right. Think I’ll make it home just in time to catch Dog Cops.”

Steve grinned and shooed him off, then bent to put away a few things. It was really a good thing that he lived pretty close. Not having to deal with a hotel and a strange bed meant Steve was able to sleep better at night. Hotels reminded him too much of the hospital from when he was a kid.

It might have seemed an odd comparison, but he’d spent so much of his childhood in and out of hospitals before he finally got over the diseases that had run rampant through his tiny body. If he wasn’t in a hospital, he was in a hotel nearby, waiting for a room so that doctors could run more tests on him. It hadn’t been a happy childhood, the only bright spots being the constant comfort from his mother… and a friend he’d made in the last hospital he’d gone to. 

No, he definitely preferred his own bed to a strange one. _Wouldn’t mind_ his bed _though,_ Steve thought. He smacked himself for it immediately. He barely knew Bucky. He wasn’t going to try to sleep with him so quickly. That wasn’t his style.

He quickly put the rest of his stuff away and closed up his table, trying to keep his mind from straying back to Bucky. It wasn’t working very well. By the time the hall closed and he got out to his motorcycle, he knew he was going to need to do _something_ to calm himself down. Calisthenics would have been the right thing, but Steve knew he’d be putting himself through a completely different kind of workout once he got home. 

‘Home’ was a small studio apartment in Brooklyn. It had an open floor plan, separated by screen dividers that had pages of concept art, dates, brainstorms, outlines, and more, all for his different comics that he was working on. He dropped his stuff off just inside the door and walked over to his desk, firing up the computer. Best to have that ready when Sam got here. If it had been winter, Steve would have started a fire in the fireplace as well, but it was only barely September and the weather hadn’t turned cold enough yet.

He pulled his shirt off and walked back to his bed, tucked away in a corner out of sight of the front door. Tossing the shirt in the hamper, Steve fell onto the bed face down and closed his eyes. He could see Bucky clearly in his head, a gift that made his art all the better. Most of his characters were based off of someone he had seen in real life, though few were from people he knew personally. Although he had only seen Bucky in costume, Steve could clearly imagine what the man looked like under it. With a groan, Steve kicked his shoes off, then fumbled around blindly for the lube he kept nearby.

Steve was sitting up to wriggle out of his pants when his phone rang. He considered ignoring it for a moment, but if Sam had broken down, he might need Steve’s help. He fished it out of his back pocket and stared at the unknown number for a moment before answering. “Hello?”

“Steve?” The voice on the other end sounded completely out of it, but Steve still recognized it. 

“Bucky? Is everything okay?” Steve sat up, feeling embarrassed by himself and concerned for Bucky.

“Yeah, just wanted to… uh, call. And apologize. Myself.”

“God, Bucky. You don’t have to apologize. You got hurt. Seriously, are you okay? Is your friend looking after you?”

There was a brief pause on the other end. “Yeah, he is. Just gave me some really good painkillers, so I’m probably going to pass out soon. I don’t even really know why I called you. Is it okay if I talk to you until I pass out?”

How much pain was Bucky in, Steve wondered. This didn’t sound like just a small accident. “Of course it’s okay. I like talking to you.” He got up and wandered over to his drawing desk. He had a bluetooth headset he kept there, for times that Sam called him while he was working.

“Good.” There was another pause. Steve thought he could hear someone working in the background, though he had no idea who or what. Most likely Bucky’s friend. “Steve. It’s a good name.”

Steve smiled. “Well, I’ve always been fond of it.” He sat down at the drawing desk and began to sketch, giving himself something to do while he talked,

“Reminds me of a kid I once knew at a hospital. I can’t actually remember his name, but I think he was a Steve.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know what I’m saying right now. I’m pretty doped up from these pain killers. What was I saying?”

Steve chuckled. “You were telling me about a kid you once knew.”

“Oh. Kids. Yeah. The little punk helped me a lot. I don’t even know if he knows. Probably not.” A tone of sadness crept into Bucky’s voice. “Poor kid probably died. Died, and I can’t even remember his name. He was a tough one though. A fighter. So maybe he survived.”

Steve stopped drawing. This all sounded eerily familiar to him and he frowned. “Bucky, what did he look like?”

There was another pause, more of the background noise, then a sharp intake of breath. “Look like? Blond hair, blue eyes… sickly. I don’t know. That was more than ten years ago. He was a fighter though. I remember that. Made me want to fight. The Winter Soldier did too. Saved my life… both of them.”

Steve could hear Bucky drifting off. He’d pass out soon, but Steve had to keep him talking. He had to know. “Saved your life how, Bucky?” There was an almost desperation to Steve’s question. “What happened when you were a kid?” The pause was longer this time. Steve swallowed. “Bucky?”

“Wha?” Bucky sounded startled on the other end, as if Steve had woken him. He probably had. 

“Bucky, what happened when you were a kid?”

“Oh… I… I fell.”

There was a thunk on the other end. Bucky had clearly dozed off at last, and dropped his phone. Steve looked down at his drawing, feeling stunned. He’d been drawing Bucky while on the phone and now that he was really looking at the picture, he knew. He just _knew_.

He jumped out of his chair and hurried over to the divider that had concept art for Not Without You. He’d started drawing this comic shortly after his last stay in the hospital. The original concepts were still hanging here, although the final design had eventually changed. He moved around the board until he found what he was looking for. A single photo taken of him and his old friend in the hospital. Hands shaking, Steve unpinned the photo from the divider.

Bucky had changed. In the photo, he had short hair. It hung out over the bandages wrapped around his head, straggly and dirty. He hadn’t been thin, but he’d seemed small and old… almost worn out. This photo had captured one of his rare smiles, but the exhaustion could still be seen in his eyes. 

He’d grown taller and filled out more since that photo was taken. Let his hair grow out. Clearly he wasn’t as old as Steve had thought. But it was unquestionably the same person. He hadn’t gone by Bucky then. His name was James Buchanan Barnes. Steve closed his eyes and remembered the young man, bandaged and missing an arm, looking so sad. Steve had already been there for a month when he’d met him and all Steve could remember was wanting to make him smile again.

Steve wanted to smack himself. Picturing Bucky now, it was all so clear. How had he not realised it earlier? How had he not recognized that smile that had been reserved only for him back then? Or those eyes? How had he not recognised the man he’d fallen in love with as a child?

He was still sitting there, staring at the picture, when Sam showed up.


	4. Chapter 4

“So this is the guy you based your Winter Soldier character on and now you found the real deal again?” Sam handed Steve a cup of coffee and looked at the picture on the kitchen table as he poured himself a mug. Steve took the cup, feeling a little more at ease than he had thirty minutes ago, when Sam had walked in on him.

The picture sat between them now. Steve had barely wanted to let go of it, but he also didn’t want to get coffee stains on it. He nodded at Sam’s question. 

Steve nodded. “I don’t even know what happened. He said he wasn’t sure where he would be going after he was released. I mean, I didn’t even know if he had family. It just never came up and he didn’t much like answering questions. I think I asked him once if anyone ever came to see him and his answer was that of course he did because I came to see him every night. I didn’t ask again. He had my address and said he’d write, but then my mom and I had to move. So I don’t know… It was after that that I started this comic.”

Picking up the picture, Sam smiled. “I remember the day I met you. You had the whole comic outlined and all the concept art prepared. I remembering seeing your stuff and being pretty impressed that it was drawn by a fourteen year old.”

Steve chuckled. “You weren’t the only one. But you were the only one who gave me the chance to prove that the comic could sell. Even if I did have to publish anonymously.”

“Just common sense at the time, though now you could easily come out. Publish under a pseudonym so that way your life won’t be affected if one draft isn’t well received.”

“Except that it was. And it’s all thanks to him. James Barnes. Bucky. I have to tell him.” Steve set his coffee down and leaned back in the chair. “I just don’t know how. I mean, I always assumed that I never got a letter because we moved, but it would have been forwarded to us if he had written. So why didn’t I get it? Maybe he was just indulging me at the time. There’s just so much that I don’t know about what happened.”

Sam set down his own cup and looked at Steve seriously. “You said he lost an arm. He could have been going through a million things after he left that hospital. Physical therapy, depression, pain. The fact is that you aren’t going to know unless you talk to him. Do you know if he’s local?”

Steve shook his head and looked a bit panicked. “He might only be in town for the con.”

“Then you better talk to him sooner rather than later. You only have two days of convention left.”

~~~  
 _~Ten years ago~_

Bucky stared out the window from his hospital bed. There wasn’t much to see, other than his own reflection. It was night and only the lamp next to his bed offered any sort of light. But it was the only view he had and sometimes at night he couldn’t sleep. Sometimes because of the pain, sometimes for other reasons.

His mom was always offering to stay overnight. He knew she meant well, but she had his sisters to take care of and Dad certainly didn’t have time with all the army stuff overseas. Bucky had already gone through the surgery. Now he was just waiting until the doctor said he could go home. Anyway, he was fourteen, not a child. He didn’t need his hand held and he certainly didn’t need his mom and sisters fussing over him.

That was what he had told his family anyway when Mom offered to stay. But right now, with nothing to keep the bad thoughts away, Bucky felt very much like a child who was afraid of the dark. What he really wanted was his dad, but the army hadn’t allowed him to leave. Of course Bucky had tried to be an adult about it and told his dad that it was fine, but in reality, he resented the army for it and he was even a little angry at his dad for not trying to fight that decision more.

Well, he was more than a little angry, but right now he just felt sad. He looked away from his reflection and turned to face the door. He jumped. A kid was standing there quietly, looking pale and thin. Bucky’s heart raced and he wondered if he was seeing ghosts. “Who are you?”

The kid smiled and walked over. “I’m Steve. I’m sleeping in the room across the hall.”

Bucky relaxed. Not a ghost then. He gave Steve a small smile back. He really couldn’t help it. Steve’s bright smile was infectious. “I’m James.”

“Are you in pain? You know the nurses will give you something to make the pain go away.” Steve climbed up onto Bucky’s bed and watched him, concerned. 

“I’m not in pain,” Bucky lied. “I just can’t sleep.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky said testily. Why did kids ask so many questions? He started to cross his arms, then remembered that he couldn't. “I just can’t.”

“Oh. What happened to your arm?” Steve pointed to Bucky’s left side and Bucky glanced down at it for the first time since it had been removed. He could almost still feel it there, like if he just tried hard enough he could move the non-existent limb. The doctor had said that was normal. 

“I fell. They had to take it.”

“Why?”

Bucky glared at him. He didn’t even want to think about it, let alone talk about it. “A kid like you wouldn’t understand," he snapped, shifting slightly.

Steve bristled. “I’m not a kid,” he growled, sitting up straighter.

“Whatever. Just stop asking so many questions. Save it for your mom.”

The silence that fell was tense for a moment. “I’m sorry,” Steve said shortly. “You just looked lonely. I’ll go away.” He jumped off the bed and started for the door.

Bucky bit his lip. “Steve, don’t… I... It’s okay. Just… I don’t like questions about it, okay? And I’m not lonely, but if you need company at night, you can come talk to me.” He really didn’t want to admit the truth to this kid.

Steve looked at him, then smiled again. Bucky could tell that Steve saw right through him, but he didn’t call him out on the blatant lie. He just nodded. “Okay. Wait right here.”

Bucky snorted as Steve hurried off. Where the hell was he going to go? Steve reappeared a few seconds later with a deck of cards. “I usually play solitaire at night. Mom has to work night shifts, so she doesn’t get to come by very often. You may not get lonely, but I do, so maybe we can play cards at night until we get tired enough to sleep.”

Bucky felt his own smile return. “Okay. I like that idea.”

The next couple of weeks passed by in much the same way. Bucky would visit with his mom during the day, but he’d chase her out when the pain and anger got really bad. She kept fussing over him, and while he knew it was because she was worried and cared, it also made him feel helpless. So he would ask her to leave after a few hours.

The only times that he really felt at ease were the times with Steve during those sleepless nights they shared. Neither of them treated the other like an invalid. Bucky didn’t smile much during those weeks, but when he did, it was always because of Steve. Bucky came to find out that Steve was there due to being almost constantly ill. They were trying a new treatment on him that should hopefully Steve a better immune system. That’s what Steve told him anyway.

At one point, Steve’s mother actually came by after visiting hours and Bucky learned that she was a nurse at the hospital. She was delighted to see that Steve and Bucky had become friends and got a picture of them together. She promised Bucky she would give him a copy, although she never did come back with it.

Then came the day Bucky was released. The night before, he stayed up all night with Steve. “I don’t know where I’ll be going,” he told Steve miserably. He didn’t want to leave at all. Or rather, he just didn’t want to leave Steve. “Somewhere overseas. But I can write you. I mean, if you want.”

“That would be great,” Steve said, a little too cheerfully, trying to hide his own disappointment that Bucky was leaving. “I wish you could stay, but I’m sure you’re ready to get out of here. I would be too.”

“You’ll get out of here soon enough,” Bucky said. He reached over with his good hand and grabbed Steve’s shoulder, giving it an encouraging squeeze. “And you’ll get better and stronger.”

Steve reached up and placed his hand over Bucky’s. “How do you know?” 

Bucky gave him a rare smile. “Because I’m psychic. I just know these things.”

Steve laughed and dropped his hand. Bucky found himself missing the warmth. His own smile dropped a fraction. “You’re just a liar,” Steve accused good naturedly.

Bucky looked offended and placed his hand over his heart. “Am not. And because I’m psychic, I also know we’ll see each other again some day.”

Steve looked at him for a long time, then leaned over and hugged him tight. Bucky hesitated, then hugged him back. “I’ll miss you.”

~~~  
Bucky woke up, still in the chair where Tony had been working on his prosthetic the night before. He hated falling asleep in this chair. He always woke stiff and sore. But Tony refused to carry him to bed whenever Bucky fell asleep here, and whatever Tony had given him last night had made him crash hard. He couldn’t even remember most of what had gone on. 

That dream though… He hadn’t thought about that time in the hospital in years. Why was he suddenly dreaming about it? He’d been fourteen and had just lost his arm. Shortly after he’d left the hospital, he’d traveled back to Europe with his mom and sisters, then underwent the lengthy and painful process of physical therapy.

With a groan, Bucky stood up to stretch and kicked something on the floor. He looked down to see Tony’s phone. Frowning, Bucky reached down to pick it up. He vaguely remembered talking to someone… 

_Shit._ “Tony!” Bucky bellowed. His friend probably wasn’t even awake yet. The time glaring on the phone read seven in the morning. Bucky stormed up the stairs and threw Tony’s bedroom door open. His friend was asleep, completely naked, on top of the covers. A half drank bottle of vodka sat on the table next to his bed.

Mercilessly, Bucky stormed over, grabbed one of the pillows, and smacked Tony with it. Tony jerked awake, rolling over and sitting up, sleep still fogging his eyes. “What is it? Did we get robbed?”

“No, you asshole. Why the hell did you let me call Steve? What did I say to him? You were supposed to keep me from doing anything stupid last night.”

Tony blinked at Bucky, confused. “What was last night?”

Bucky smacked him with the pillow again. “You gave me those damn pain killers and your phone. Don’t act like you don’t remember.”

“Oh. That. You’re welcome.” Tony flopped back onto the bed to pass out again.

“I am not thanking you!” Bucky snapped. “Tell me what I said to him.”

“I wasn’t listening,” Tony said. “Something about that kid in the hospital.”

Shit. No wonder he’d dreamt about him. “What else? Goddammit, Tony, what else did I say?”

“Nothing. You told him you fell, then you finally passed out.”

“Shit. He’s going to think I’m completely crazy now.” Bucky dumped the pillow on Tony’s head and started to pace.

Tony pulled it off and cracked an eye open at Bucky. “He didn’t hang up on you, so I doubt that. Actually, the fact that he didn’t hang up on you when you were essentially drunk-dialing him says a lot about the kind of man he is. Mostly that he likes crazy.”

Bucky shot him a glare. “I don’t even remember what I said. I can’t face him now. I’m not ready…”

Now Tony did sit up, giving Bucky a hard look. “Ready for what? For him to see the real you? If he can’t handle the real you, then he can fuck off. But I get the feeling that the only one who cares about that arm is you.”

“Fuck you, Tony.” Bucky stormed out. He knew Tony was right and it pissed him off because he did care. He had always cared. He could pretend all day long, but he hated the looks he got from people. The stares...

Bucky reached his own room and slammed the door behind him, then turned and punched the wall. He kept thinking about what he might have said on the phone. Those thoughts drifted into what Steve would say when Bucky went to see him later today. Climbing in to bed, Bucky curled up and pulled the blankets over his head. He really wanted to just disappear.

Burying his face into his pillow, Bucky imagined what Steve’s reaction would be when he saw the missing arm. Bucky wouldn’t be able to handle a look of pity. Not from Steve. He knew he was being a coward, but Bucky absolutely did not want to face Steve today. 

~~~  
Steve met Clint at the convention a little late and gave him a huge smile. After talking to Sam last night, and of course learning who Bucky was, Steve was excited to see Bucky today. Clint raised an eyebrow. //You’re excited about something and it had better be about Bucky,// he signed. Steve noticed Clint didn’t have his hearing aid today.

//Long story,// he signed back. //Hearing aid?//

Clint shrugged. //Dead battery. I can go without for the day. Won’t be much help on my own though. I’ll just keep you company until lover boy gets here.//

Steve shook his head in amusement. They got into the hall and Steve started setting up. He worked quickly, wanting to share the story with his best friend. Unlike the first day, when he had been very careful about everything, today he practically threw things onto the table, finishing fifteen minutes before the doors opened.

Clint was chuckling as he watched. //Well something good must have happened. Tell me everything.//

It was hard to explain using only his hands, and Steve fumbled over a couple of words, but he eventually got the story out. At the end, Steve pulled out the photo and showed it to Clint. //I don’t think he remembers me though,// Steve continued. //He said he’d come by today.//

//Damn, that’s crazy,// Clint signed after handing the photo back. //What are the odds of you two finding each other again?//

//Very low. And he was inspired by the comic that was inspired by him.// Steve started laughing and Clint made a confused gesture. //Bucky told me back then that he was psychic and we’d meet again. Maybe he really was.//

Clint grinned. //Well at least this way, I don’t have to give you any more advice. You should be able to make a move on him without my help.//

//I can’t make a move on him. Not without knowing if he...//

//God, you are such a...// Clint made an exasperated gesture. //You’ve been in love with him forever. Stop holding back. You’ll regret it if you do. I’m not saying force yourself on him. I’m saying tell him how you fucking feel.//

//Sam said almost the same thing.//

//Well good. If you aren’t going to listen to me, then listen to him.//

//And I was going to tell him,// Steve signed defensively. Clint gave him a look. //Okay, maybe not that I love him. But everything else.//

//A guy like that. You better tell him you love him too.//

Steve started to respond, but his phone rang. He couldn’t hide the grin the crept onto his face when he saw the number. He quickly answered. “Bucky?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but no. This is Tony. I’m a friend of his.”

Steve’s face fell slightly. “Yeah, he mentioned you before. Sorry, it’s nice to meet you. Uh, sort of.” He was rambling, feeling confused, but he couldn’t help it. Why was Tony calling and not Bucky?

“Look,” Tony said. “Bucky’s not really feeling up for leaving the house today. I know he really wanted to go, but I don’t think he’ll be able to make it today. I’m not sure about tomorrow, but I’ll try.”

“Why not?” Steve asked before he could stop himself. He had to see Bucky before the convention ended. If he didn’t… he might not get another chance to tell him everything… to _show_ him.

“He’s just... dealing with stuff.” Tony didn’t sound happy about it. 

“Is it about his missing arm? Because I don’t care about that,” Steve said.

“Yeah well, _he_ does.” Now there was a definite tone of irritation. Tony was obviously annoyed at Bucky’s decision. “Sorry, nothing I can do. He’s got your number and I’ll try to get him to call you later.” There was a click on the other end. Tony had hung up.

Steve had the urge to throw his phone. He couldn’t lose this chance. Not now. Tomorrow the convention would close early and Bucky would already be on his way back home. If Steve didn’t talk to him today...

Clint was watching him with a curious and concerned expression. //He’s not coming,// Steve signed angrily. He sat down in a huff, then put his head in his hands. How was he going to do this now?


	5. Chapter 5

A buzzing woke Bucky up. He cracked an eye open to peer at the phone on the table next to his bed. Seven in the morning. Sunday. He’d spent an entire day in bed, eventually turning the phone to voicemail only just so he could ignore the near constant ringing. He'd finally fallen asleep, every worst case scenario he could think of still bouncing around in his head. The worst was how badly he had messed everything up.

It was the last day of the con. Buck pulled himself out of bed with difficulty and went out to the living room. Tony was sitting on the couch watching some program on engineering and making the occasional remark on how outdated it was or how it could be done better. Bucky usually didn’t mind; he generally found it amusing and Tony was usually right anyway. But right now, Bucky just felt awful. He didn’t eat anything. He just grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down next to Tony. They sat in silence for a long time, just watching early morning programs.

“I called Steve for you,” Tony finally said, after one show ended and the next started. “Told him you weren’t going to be able to make it yesterday.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said simply. It should have helped, but it just made him feel worse. 

“You should at least text him.”

“And say what? I’m sorry I’m such a mess?” Bucky asked.

“Look,” Tony said, without turning away from the TV. “I’m not going to tell you how to screw up your own life. You’re capable of that on your own. But I will say this. You went to that convention looking for something, and not just some faceless artist that you know nothing about. And I think you found it in this Steve guy.”

Bucky glanced at Tony. Tony wasn't the best with encouragement usually, and was less than insightful about the average person. Even with Bucky, advice was generally laden with snark, though Tony meant well. So his comment made Bucky sit up and pay attention.

He was reminded of something Dad had told him once when he had been going through physical therapy. _”You’re a strong man, James. You can get through this. But it's okay to ask for help too. I know you said you don't want me or your mother helping you. But someday you’ll find someone you do want helping you. When you do, hang onto them and don't let them go, no matter what.”_

With a sigh, Bucky looked at the time on the phone. Where had the morning gone? He finished his beer quickly, then stood up.

“Where are you going?” Tony asked. He twisted in his seat to watch Bucky.

Bucky suspected he already knew. “Out,” he answered grumpily. “To find the guy I want helping me.”

“I have no idea what that means but if it means you're going to find Steve, then you better hurry.”

Bucky grabbed his coat and slid it on. He thought about the glove, then shook his head. No more hiding. Not from Steve. Whatever happened, he had to be honest. He was headed for the door when Tony appeared at his side. “I’ll drive you,” Tony said, picking up the keys from the dish next to the front door.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I was just going to sit around yelling at the TV anyway.” Tony smiled and grabbed the door. “And we need to get you there before he leaves.”

“Thanks.”

When they got there, Tony left Bucky at the door, assuring him that he was going to wait around for a little bit. Bucky nodded and hurried in, barely remembering to pull out his badge as he got to the door. Heart pounding, he rounded the corner to Steve’s table. He stopped in mid step. Steve’s table was completely empty and abandoned. 

Bucky stayed frozen for a long moment, heart sinking. Somehow he managed to move forward, toward the table. He almost felt like breaking down right there. The other artists who’d been on either side were gone as well. Bucky had to resist the urge to punch the table. He turned to go but something caught his eye behind the table.

Bucky looked around. No one was watching. He ducked under the table and found a small leather wallet. Peeking inside, Bucky sucked in a quick breath. It was Steve’s wallet. He’d come back for it. He’d have to notice it was missing soon. Bucky could wait. 

Then Bucky saw the address and stood quickly, banging his head on the edge of the table. “Fuck,” he cursed.

Steve was local. He lived in Brooklyn. That changed everything. Bucky wasn’t out of luck. Steve wasn’t going to hop on some plane and take off. Bucky could see him whenever he wanted… If Steve even still wanted anything to do with him.

Pulling out his phone and walking quickly out of the hall, Bucky dialed Tony. “Hey, he was already gone, but he left his wallet.”

“Well, that’s good. You going to wait around for him to realise?”

“Nope. I’m going to take it to him.”

There was a whistle on the other end. “And how much of your savings is _this_ going to cost you?”

“A tank of gas? He lives in Brooklyn.”

Tony chuckled. “I’d make a comment about how you’ve reached stalker status in record time, but what the hell. Let’s go find this guy. You going to call him and let him know you're coming?”

Bucky hesitated. “No. If I do that, he could say no. Or I could lose my nerve again and he’ll just be waiting. I’ll just show up on his doorstep and hope for the best.”

“Yeah, because _that_ never ends poorly. Your choice. Get your ass out here and let’s go.”

~~~  
Steve looked out of the window, watching the traffic. The convention was over. Bucky was probably already back on a plane or in a car or bus to wherever he lived. And to top off the whole weekend, he’d lost his wallet.

He’d gone back to the convention center to look, but it wasn’t there and nobody had seen it or turned it in. Thankfully he didn’t keep cash in there, but tomorrow he’d have to look into getting all of his cards replaced, which would be a pain in the ass.

Clint was too busy shoveling food into his mouth to talk. Steve sighed. He pulled out his phone and looked at it, but there was still no word from Bucky. He’d tried calling several times yesterday, but after no answer, Steve had finally given up. Bucky could call him when he was ready.

He looked over at Clint, then dropped a tip onto the table and said, "I’m going home. Tired."

Clint set his burger down and gave Steve a long look. "You going to be okay?"

"Yeah. Just been a long weekend. Things should hopefully look better tomorrow. Need a ride?"

"I’ll catch the bus. Thanks though."

~~~  
It was almost dark by the time he got home. Steve parked his motorcycle and pulled his stuff off of it before heading to the stairs leading up to his apartment. He stopped short, noticing a hooded figure sitting in the shadows of the stairwell. The slump of the person's shoulders made Steve concerned. They looked like they needed help. “Can I help you?”

The person looked up, startled for a moment. Then they stood and pushed their hood back. Steve nearly dropped all of his things. “Bucky!”

Bucky gave Steve a ghost of a smile. “Sorry. I… probably should have called. I thought you were going to be home sooner.” 

Steve looked Bucky over, taking in the dark circles under his eyes and the way he swayed just slightly on his feet. “How did you find me?” As Bucky reached into his pocket, realisation dawned on Steve. “You found my wallet.”

Bucky handed it over guiltily. “Well, that’s what you get for not being there today,” he joked. It was a weak joke and one that anyone else might have snapped at him for, considering it was Bucky who had disappeared for two days.

But looking at Bucky now, Steve could only imagine how difficult this must have been for him. What had Bucky gone through after he left the hospital? Bucky had mentioned that the comic had saved his life. Steve wondered if that was more true than he'd first thought. “When was the last time you ate?”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s Sunday, right?”

Digging his keys out of his pocket, Steve opened his apartment and led Bucky inside. “Okay, food first. Then talk. You’re not going to miss a flight or a train or anything, are you?”

“What?” Bucky blinked at him. “Oh, no.” He started laughing. The sound was music to Steve’s ears. He could hear the relief in the sound. “No, I live downtown. Tony dropped me off.”

Steve stopped and stared at him. “Downtown? For how long?”

Bucky thought about it. “A couple of years? Started attending college here, among other things. I live with Tony.”

Two years and they’d never met. Gesturing to a seat at the kitchen bar, Steve fought the urge to shake his head. New York was a huge city after all, and how often did Steve actually go downtown? Most times, he actively avoided it. It shouldn't have been surprising that they hadn't met in that time.

He saw Bucky looking around at the art dividers and knew it wouldn’t take Bucky long to see the one for Not Without You. He didn’t want Bucky to find out like that. “There’s a lot I’ve been wanting to tell you,” Steve said, bringing Bucky’s attention back to him. He started pulling food out of the fridge. “I…” He paused. “There’s not a good way to bring this up, really.” Setting the food down on the counter, Steve reached into his pocket and pulled out the old photo. He took a deep breath, then held it out.

Bucky frowned as he took it, worry lines creasing his forehead. “What’s…” He stopped and Steve watched him with more than a little anxiety. He had no idea how Bucky would react. “This… This is me,” Bucky said. He looked up at Steve, searching his face. “You mean. Steve, this kid… he’s you?”

Steve nodded. “We were friends, remember? Stuck in the hospital together. I was really sick and you… you had just lost your arm.”

Bucky looked back at the picture, still frowning. Steve couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “I remember,” Bucky said quietly. “He… You. You came to my room my first night out of surgery.”

“Yeah. I couldn’t sleep that night. And I saw you staring out that window and I just… I had to go over.”

Bucky looked at him, as if trying to see the scrawny runt in the man who now stood before him. “You were smaller then. I thought you were, like, eight.”

That surprised a laugh out of Steve. “Funny, I thought you were older.”

For the first time that evening, a smile crept onto Bucky’s face. “Guess we were both wrong.”

“Not entirely. You said I’d get better and I did. You also said we’d meet again.”

“Told you I was psychic.” There was a tone of amusement in his voice that wasn't reflected in his actions. Bucky closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. 

Steve hesitated. “You never… I mean, I never got a letter from you.”

Bucky didn’t look at Steve this time. Instead, he sighed. “I tried. I think I started a dozen letters that I eventually threw away. I was angry a lot, after I went back to Europe. I didn’t know what it was at the time. Not until I went to therapy. I just remembered sometimes being angry at everyone and everything, and other times just not wanting to do anything at all. Like nothing mattered. Army doctor said it was normal and that I just needed to get over it, but then I got to see a real therapist and she told me it was depression.”

Steve came around and hugged Bucky. “I’m sorry. I always thought you were just humoring me at the hospital, but I guess I just had no idea.”

Bucky shrugged. “You didn't know. I’ve gotten better, though… I mean obviously I’m not perfect. And I’m sorry I left you stranded. I was an idiot…”

Steve turned Bucky so he could look him in the eye. “I don’t care. I don’t care about your missing arm or that we’re both idiots or any other number of excuses you could give me. Because I love you, Bucky. I’ve loved you since the hospital and nothing has changed.” He said it with as much sincerity as he could manage which, for Steve, was a lot.

Bucky stared at him, wide-eyed at the confession. Steve didn’t hesitate any longer. He leaned down and kissed Bucky. The kiss was gentle at first, probing, then Steve felt Bucky reach up and touch his waist. Not pushing away, but trying to pull him closer. Steve’s kiss became more demanding and he pushed Bucky against the kitchen counter, grinding against him, all thoughts of feeding Bucky abandoned in the moment. The only thought on Steve’s mind was how long he had waited for this moment. He’d fallen in love with Bucky at the hospital, then fallen in love all over again at the convention, and knowing that both his loves were actually the same person just fueled his desire.

Bucky was kissing him back too, clearly just as needy for this. He pressed against him, crushing Steve against his body with one arm. Steve reached up, breaking the kiss to get Bucky out of that coat he was hiding in. He stepped back for room to maneuver Bucky out of all of his clothes, barely thinking about anything else until Bucky stepped forward and his legs gave out.

“Shit, Bucky!” Steve caught him before he hit the floor and looked at him, worried. Bucky gave him a weak smile. 

“Sorry, Steve.” Bucky stomach rumbled and Steve felt like smacking his forehead.

“No, _I’m_ sorry. I got so caught up… You said you hadn’t eaten today.”

“It’s been two days, actually.”

“What?” Steve frowned. 

“I had a beer this morning?” Bucky smiled sheepishly.

Steve huffed, then picked Bucky up and carried him over to the couch. “I’d make a joke about you being my damsel in distress…”

“I will walk out that door before I let you call me that,” Bucky grumbled.

“You can try. Don’t make me tie you down.”

“Is that a threat, or a promise?” Bucky managed a weak but mischievous smile.

Steve had the decency to blush, but it didn’t stop him from responding. “Both. Stay there. I’ll make you some food real quick.”


	6. Chapter 6

Bucky woke early, reorienting himself for a moment. His side ached a bit from having slept in the same position all night, but it had been a little difficult to toss and turn with Steve’s arm draped across his chest. Bucky was used to tossing and turning, trying to find some position that was comfortable. Hopefully after the surgery, his left arm wouldn’t be a problem anymore.

He looked over at Steve, who was still sleeping, snoring softly. Last night had been a bit of a blur for Bucky. It was never a good idea to go without eating for two days, then drink on that empty stomach. Bucky was just lucky he hadn’t passed out on the steps waiting for Steve to get home. It had been a near thing though and he’d almost given up.

Looking at Steve now, in the soft morning light, Bucky could see the kid he’d known in the man laying next to him. How many times had they fallen asleep together like this back then? While most of that time was lost to Bucky, forgotten in the haze of physical therapy and medication, he never forgot those early mornings when the nurse would find them together and carry Steve back to his own bed.

Last night had been a good night, full of catching up, with a few games thrown in. When Steve wanted to cuddle, Bucky didn’t argue. Hell, he was pretty exhausted most of the night. He was just lucky Steve wasn’t the sort of guy to take advantage. If Steve had asked to do anything more than cuddling, Bucky would have said yes in a heart beat. In fact, Bucky was pretty sure he’d started to grind against Steve at some point after they’d eaten, but Steve was adamant about not doing anything until Bucky had his strength back.

Which was just as well as, now that Bucky’s head was a little clearer than yesterday, he wasn’t really sure how he felt about Steve. Well, that wasn’t completely true. He cared about him and liked him and sure, he could probably love him. But he wasn’t _in_ love with him. He would probably need some time still to figure that out.

His head ached almost as much as his side, so Bucky slipped out of bed and stretched, needing water and aspirin, if he could find some. Steve shifted a bit, but didn’t stir. Maybe Bucky could make breakfast for them… 

No, scratch that thought. He didn’t want to drive Steve away yet, or worse, kill him. Bucky’s cooking, while sufficient for his own needs, was mostly inedible to anyone else except maybe Tony. He remembered Natasha coming over one evening, tasting Bucky’s ‘spaghetti’, then wordlessly dumping the whole thing in the trash and calling for take out.

Rubbing his temples, Bucky slipped around the nearest divider, glancing at the art until one caught his eye. Breathless, he circled it, looking at the concept art, the notes, everything for Not Without You. Steve had told him about these walls last night, about what he used them for. There was no doubt about it.

“Steve,” he whispered quietly. “It was you…”

“Bucky?" He heard Steve call groggily from the bed. Swallowing, Bucky walked back over to the bed and looked down at Steve.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bucky demanded.

Steve looked up at him, then over at the wall. He didn’t answer at first, sitting up and taking hold of Bucky’s right hand. When he finally spoke, Bucky could hear the anxiety in his voice, as if he wasn’t quite sure how Bucky was going to react. “I didn’t… I wasn’t expecting, well, any of this. I didn’t want people to know. And then after… I didn’t want _you_ to think I was trying to take advantage.”

“Steve…” Bucky knelt down between Steve’s legs and looked him in the eyes. He wasn’t sure completely how he felt about any of this, but he understood why Steve had kept this secret. “That’s not who you are. I may not know much about the man you’ve become, but I know that much.”

Steve smiled at him, then looked back over at the art. “I started drawing that shortly after I got out of the hospital. I told you last night, even back then I loved you. I didn’t know what you were doing or how you were or if you would write, so that character…”

“Wait, Steve, are you telling me you based the Winter Soldier off of me?” Bucky stared up at him, amazed. 

Steve looked back at Bucky with a wry grin. “Yeah. A tribute to you. I’m glad you could relate to him.”

Bucky laughed. “Relate to myself you mean. You saved my life twice then. Allow me to repay that debt.” He leaned up and kissed Steve.

The kiss was just as breathless as the one last night. Steve gripped Bucky’s shoulders tightly, holding him in place as he kissed him back. Bucky parted his lips, letting Steve’s tongue probe gently past. Just like last night, it was Steve who broke the kiss. He looked at Bucky, concern etched in his face. “You don’t have to repay anything.”

That had probably been a bad way of putting it, but Bucky _was_ grateful. And if this wasn’t the only way to show his thanks, it was at least a pleasurable way. And it wasn’t like neither of them wanted it. Bucky’s annoyance must have shown because Steve’s grip loosened. “I mean,” Steve started. “I love you, I just…”

“Shut up, Steve.” Bucky pushed Steve onto his back and climbed on top of him. “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop.”

Steve frowned. “No, I do, but…”

“But nothing, Steve. We both want this. I’m assuming, handsome guy like you, you’ve got stuff laying around, right?”

Now it was Steve’s turn to look irritated. He propped himself up on his elbows. “You make it sound like I always do this.”

Bucky had the decency to blush. “God, I didn’t mean… I’m sorry. Look, I want to do this. The reason doesn’t matter. Not to me.”

“So it wouldn’t matter,” Steve said, sitting up, the mood clearly gone. “Even if I was some stranger you met at a convention.” 

Bucky huffed and stood up. “You are some stranger I met at a convention,” he snapped. “And I still chose you out of everyone else. Because you actually cared. So yes, it matters to me that it’s you. Beyond that, no. If you want a reason, I can give you plenty that aren’t just a simple thank you. How about it’s fun? It’s a stress reliever? It’s pleasurable? We both want it? I could keep going.”

“What about meaning?” Steve asked quietly.

Bucky looked at Steve. “Meaning?”

Steve looked up at Bucky, confused. “Yes, meaning. Maybe it’s a bit old fashioned, but what about sex that actually means something?”

Bucky sighed. Meaningful sex? He knew what Steve meant, but did he really think that what Bucky was wanting wasn’t going to have meaning as well? Then again, with Bucky still not sure if he loved Steve, maybe that was the point. “Fine. We’ll wait then. For the right time.” He was still a little irritated though and he started looking around for his phone.

“Bucky…”

“I know, okay. I get it. Really.” Bucky walked away from the bed. His jacket had been abandoned on the back of the couch. He fished through the pockets and checked the time. “Shit.”

“What is it?” Steve asked. He’d followed Bucky out into the main living area. 

Bucky glanced at him. In the morning light, Steve was more handsome than ever. Bucky’s irritation melted away. _Shit._ If Steve wanted to wait, Bucky could live with that, but not if he kept waking up to him like this, especially if Steve insisted on sleeping in nothing but boxers. “Uh, sorry.” Bucky looked back at his phone. “I have somewhere to be.”

“No time for breakfast? How about a ride?”

“No, and... Well, actually, if you could give me a lift home, that would be great. I need to change.”

“Okay. Can… can I call you later?”

Bucky nodded. “I’d like that. And I understand if you want to wait. I may not be happy about it, but I understand.”

“Thanks.”

~~~  
“This has got to be a new record for you, Barnes,” Tony said, leaning against the door frame in Bucky’s room as Bucky hurried to get ready. Tony had a smirk on his face, having already made up his mind about what had happened yesterday. Bucky hadn’t said more than hello as he rushed him and, considering that Bucky probably looked flustered all over again from how close he’d been to Steve on the motorcycle ride, Bucky could guess exactly what Tony was thinking.

“I thought you wanted me to go after him,” Bucky retorted, preoccupied with getting ready. 

“Hey, I’m not judging you. I just didn’t think you’d sleep with him so soon.” Tony stepped in and clapped him on the shoulder as Bucky pushed past him, looking for something clean to wear. When was the last time he did laundry? The pile of clothes was getting out of hand. He was usually cleaner than this.

Finally Bucky found a clean shirt and yanked it on. "We didn't sleep together, Tony,” he admitted, looking for where he’d dropped his wallet on the bed. He grabbed it and stuck it in his pocket.

"Seriously? I was sure you two were going to…"

"Well it wasn't for lack of trying," Bucky grumbled. He grabbed Tony and steered him toward the door. Now that the excitement of the convention was over, Bucky was thinking of the surgery and the new arm he would get this coming weekend and getting anxious. "He wants it to be 'meaningful'. Let’s go. We’re going to be late as it is.”

"Meaningful? What does that even mean?" Tony snatched his keys from the table near the door as Bucky shoved him out the door. The facial expression he had on his face was almost humorous. Bucky wasn’t surprised. Tony was the textbook definition of a playboy. Sex and meaning had nothing to do with each other.

"It means he wants to wait and I have to respect that."

"Sounds miserable."

Tony didn’t say anything else until they were in the car and driving to the hospital. Bucky tried not to keep looking at his phone as they drove. 

“So are you going to see him again?” Tony asked after a few minutes of silence. 

“Probably,” Bucky said, staring out the window. “I told him to call me anyway. I don’t know when though.”

“You sound more miserable than just a simple cockblock should cause. What else is going on?”

Bucky sighed, then looked at Tony. “He said he loved me. He wasn’t joking either.”

“On the first date? Shit.”

“It’s more than that, Tony.” Bucky told him about the hospital and who Steve was to him, then told him about the comic that Steve had created.

Tony whistled. “Well, shit. That’s a helluva lot to lay on someone in less than twenty four hours. But this is good, right? I mean, you’ve been head over heels for him for a long time.”

“That’s not the same thing, and you know it. It’s infatuation. It’s like you being in love with… with Scarlett Johanssen. You can say you love her, but you don’t _mean_ it. It’s just a saying. You wouldn’t _really_ sleep with… okay, maybe _you_ would.”

Tony chuckled. “Damn straight. So you don’t actually love him. That’s fine. Love is overrated anyway. So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. Keep seeing him, sort out my own feelings, get this damn surgery out of the way.”

“Did you tell him about that?”

Bucky shook his head. “No, there just really wasn’t a good time to bring it up.” 

“What’s the problem? You think he’d care?”

“I think he would very much care. Too much. He’s got his own shit to deal with. He doesn’t need mine too. And you know those days after the surgery are going to be hell. I definitely don’t want to subject him to that. He had to deal with it as kids and that was bad enough. I was always snapping at him. And I know I’ve only gotten worse as an adult. How did you describe me the last time I had to go in because of the pain?”

“Worse than a PMSing woman with no painkillers or chocolate in sight. Well, that was when you weren’t brooding and sullen. I actually think I prefer you when you’re bitchy to the whole brooding emo kid.”

“Asshole,” Bucky said, smiling. He relaxed. “I am not emo.”

Tony chuckled. “Next time you start brooding, I’ll just have to get video or time you. So you’re just going to show up to your next date with a new metal, state-of-the-art, cyborg part and hope this guy doesn’t notice.”

“Probably. If he doesn’t run screaming once he really gets to know the person I’ve become.”

“Get to know you in a week? I’ve known you for two years and you still surprise me.”

Bucky grinned and leaned back, mind at ease for now.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this one took a bit longer than anticipated. I had a horrible case of writer's block. Hope y'all enjoy!

Steve sat on the couch at Clint’s, absently petting Clint’s dog Arrow. The golden retriever thumped its tail happily on the couch as Steve found a good spot. Clint came over with pizza and beer. “So you think it was all a mess?”

“There’s literally no other way to describe it other than I fucked up,” Steve grumbled. It was hard to be too miserable with ninety pounds of fur in his lap though.

“So what happened?” Clint asked. Arrow perked up as Clint sat down with the pizza. The dog was addicted to it, which Steve knew was mostly Clint’s fault. As far as Steve knew, his friend didn’t even bother with real dog food.

Turning slightly to face Clint, Steve answered. “Everything and nothing. Last night he was half drunk and starving and god only knows what else. I was an idiot and told him I loved him. I kissed him.”

“Did he kiss you back?” Clint interrupted. He handed over one of the beers before grabbing a slice and sticking it on the plate on the floor next to the couch. The dog jumped down and hurried over to gobble it up. 

Steve nodded. “Yeah, but he was drunk. He hadn’t eaten at all. I shouldn’t have pushed. And then this morning… he found out about Not Without You.” He picked up a slice himself, but he wasn’t very hungry. “And right after he found out, he wanted to have sex.”

Clint frowned. “You think he just wanted to because of that?”

“No. I don’t know. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. It just… it didn’t feel right, so I stopped it.”

“Nothing wrong with that. So what are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know.” Steve leaned back against the couch with a sigh. “Call him for sure. ”

“Why not ask him out on a real date? Do something fun where you can get to know each other again. Go to Coney Island or something. Seriously, I mean, Bucky obviously likes you, but there’s issues there. You need to find out what they are and help work through them.”

Steve smiled. “That’s perfect,” he said. “When did you get so smart?”

“I’m not. I’ve just had enough failed relationships that I know what not to do. For the record, saying ‘I love you’ on a first date is a big no.”

Steve blushed. “Yeah, that was a bonehead mistake. You can start the show. I’m going to go call him.”

“No problem. More pizza for me. I’ll try not to finish it all before you get back. Can’t say the same about the mutt.”

Steve chuckled and stepped out to the hall to make his call. The phone rang twice, then Bucky answered. “Hello?”

“Hey, Bucky. It’s Steve.”

“Hey! What’s up?”

“Uhm, I, uh, wanted to apologize. About last night. And to ask if you wanted to go out with me this weekend.”

There was a pause on the other end and Steve bit his lip. He hoped he wasn’t pushing too much. “I can’t this weekend,” Bucky said finally. “I’m going to be busy. But are you free before that?”

 _All weekend?_ Steve thought. He didn’t ask though. Bucky had a life. Maybe he was working. Either way, it wasn’t Steve’s place to pry. “Nice thing about being self-employed, I can pretty much set my own hours,” he answered with a smile. “When do you want to go?”

“How about Thursday?”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll come pick you up around noon. We can get lunch and then, whatever.”

“Great. And Steve. I’m sorry too. Told you I was a mess. I shouldn’t have pushed this morning. Don’t know what got into me.”

“It’s okay. We’ll try again on Thursday.”

~~~  
Steve smiled nervously as Bucky answered the door. The last time he’d dropped Bucky off, Steve hadn’t really looked at the place he lived. The building looked like most of the other apartments in the area. It was definitely a fancier neighborhood than where Steve lived. Granted, Steve had a nice studio apartment himself, but it was in the cheap part of the city and he had put a lot of work into the open floor plan.

This place was different. A butler wouldn’t have been out of place here. It was a three story apartment, which might have had three families living in it, but as Steve stepped inside, he quickly realised that wasn’t the case at all. It all belonged to Bucky and his friend Tony.

“Nice place,” he said.

Bucky grinned. “Tony owns it. Well, technically his dad does. Kitchen is there, bathroom there, and my room is through that door. Tony’s room is on the second floor, and the third is where he likes to… err… invent.”

“Two whole floors to himself?” Steve asked, a bit in awe.

“Well, not really completely. I have a study on the second floor myself, but trust me. There was no way I was sleeping on the same floor as him. If you heard him snore, you’d understand.”

“I heard that,” Tony said, coming downstairs.

This was Steve’s first time seeing Tony in person. He wasn’t at all how Steve had imagined. He was only wearing a tank top and boxers, so Steve could see he worked out. His black hair was messed up, as if he’d just rolled out of bed, and he had a goatee. All in all, not a bad sight despite the heavy bags under his eyes, but as he walked by Steve, there was a distinct odor of alcohol. 

Bucky just shrugged, but then again, he was probably used to it. Steve could hardly picture Tony being the sort of person to really look after someone else, even a friend, not the way he looked right now. It felt like a stark contrast to the man he’d spoken to on the phone. Then again, Steve knew all too well that appearances could be deceiving.

“I’m Steve,” he offered as Tony walked into the kitchen.

“I guessed that, dorito,” Tony stated loudly over his shoulder, confusing Steve with the moniker. “And I do not snore, Barnes.”

Bucky chuckled. “You’re also full of it, Stark.”

“Wait,” Steve said. “Tony Stark? Son of Howard Stark, the multibillionaire CEO…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said irritably, coming back in with a beer bottle. “I know who my own father is, thank you. And as much as I like to hear about me, don’t you two have a date or something? Or were you just going to stay in and fu-”

“Tony,” Bucky said sharply. “Do us both a favor and shut up before you put your foot any further into your mouth.”

Tony shrugged and disappeared back upstairs. Steve looked sheepishly at Bucky. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, you’re fine. Tony just had an argument with his dad, so he’s a bit angry. Best to let him do some work without getting in the way. So what did you have in mind for today?”

Steve glanced toward the stairs, then looked at Bucky and smiled. “How about Coney Island?”

“That would be amazing. I haven’t been since I was little.”

“Great. Let’s get lunch beforehand. You sure he’s okay?”

Bucky nodded. “He’s not the sort to brood. Trust me, once he gets up into his workroom, he gets… Well, there’s not really a good way to describe it, but he gets into this zone. He’ll cool off once he gets started.”

“That’s good. So what type of food do you like to eat?”

Bucky smiled. “I’ll eat anything as long as it tastes good, but I really like good hamburgers. Lame, I know.”

“Not really. Let’s see.” Steve thought as he led the way out to his motorcycle. “Oh, I know a place that’s near where we’re going.”

“Oh?”

Steve grinned. “I’m going to surprise you.”

~~~  
It was late by the time Steve dropped Bucky back off at home. It had been a good day overall. While they had done some catching up when Bucky had stayed the night, Bucky hadn’t really gone into details about his life. Even now, it had been hard to draw Bucky out and learn more, but eventually Steve managed it.

Steve found out that Bucky was currently unemployed, living off a disability check every month that was just enough to pay his portion of the bills. He also learned that Bucky wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, but he’d thought he might enjoy engineering, and that was actually how he met Tony. They’d taken a class together.

“Tony was just there for the girls,” Bucky had joked. “He didn’t need the class at all.”

“That… actually doesn’t surprise me,” Steve had answered. “And I don’t even know the guy.”

After lunch, they went to the park, and there was considerably less talking. Bucky apparently had a bit of a weak spot for roller coasters and dragged Steve onto every single one. Steve wasn’t a fan of them personally, but he went anyway. He liked watching Bucky have fun.

There was something else too. Bucky seemed anxious about something and Steve couldn’t tell what. He didn’t think it was about him, and he really couldn’t put his finger on anything specific that made him think that. So when he dropped Bucky off at home, he reached out and took his hand. “You know, I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

Bucky looked startled by the statement, but relaxed with a smile after a second. “I know. I… Do you want to stay the night? I mean, you don’t have to, but it would be nice. And I promise I won’t try anything.”

Steve grinned. “You know what? I would like that. Tony won’t mind?”

“Doubt it. He’ll probably just give me a thumbs up.”

Steve laughed. “Okay.” Locking his bike, he followed Bucky in. If Tony was around, he must have still been upstairs. The first floor was dark and quiet. Bucky flipped on a light and led Steve over to the couch. Steve glanced at him. “If I ask you what’s bothering you, would you tell me?”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth quirked upward as he sat down. “Did I ever?”

Sitting next to Bucky, Steve smiled. “No, you always made up some bs reason for wanting me in your bed.” He blushed as soon as he said that. 

Bucky just laughed and leaned against Steve. “Well, there are worse people to have in my bed.” Steve didn’t miss the slight edge to Bucky’s tone as he said that and wondered what kind of lover Bucky had had in the past. Bucky hadn’t mentioned any. “Besides, I like you, Steve. I don’t know if you believe it, but I do. I don’t know how else I feel, but I know that I like you enough to want to make love to you. I like you enough that I don’t want to disappear on you again. I want to try to be a better man for you.”

“Bucky. You’re already a good man. You already know how I feel about you. I’ll say it again if it would help, but I don’t want you to feel any obligation.”

Bucky twisted to look Steve in the eyes. “Trust me, if I felt like there was an obligation, I wouldn’t still be here. But that’s not what I feel with you, Steve. With you, there’s no pressure, and that’s what is scary to me. I know it sounds stupid, but with you, there’s no expectation for me to be anyone but myself and I’m so used to having to pretend that it’s a bit scary not to. This arm… People have judged me by it for a long time.”

“Well, I don’t,” Steve said.

“I know, and that’s what scares me. I don’t know how to react, so I make stupid decisions. Like last weekend.”

“No, that wasn’t stupid. Like you said, I did want you. I just… I guess it felt too much like you were forcing yourself. We both came up with stupid excuses.”

Bucky smiled. “If you still want to wait, I understand. If not, I’ve got a room not five feet away. Your choice. If all you want to do is fall asleep in each other’s arms, I’m okay with that.”

Steve reached down, and pulled Bucky up into a quick kiss. “Do you have protection?” He asked.

Bucky’s smile widened. “I do.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all my readers who stuck with me for this. I really enjoyed writing it, but you guys made it worth while.
> 
> To the end of the line.

Bucky paced outside the hospital, phone in hand, biting his lip nervously. Steve's number was already entered in, ready to dial, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to press the button.

He pressed cancel and smacked himself in the forehead with his phone. Why was this so difficult? After Thursday, Bucky thought he'd made up his mind to tell Steve, but then he'd hesitated and hesitated some more and now it was almost time for his surgery and Bucky still hadn’t told him. Why was it so difficult to tell Steve that he didn't want to wake up alone?

No, Bucky knew why. Too many years of telling himself he didn't need help. He'd been okay with telling himself the little lies before Steve had waltzed back into his life. He could have handled it, however badly. But knowing that he didn't _have_ to do it alone now made it harder to believe those old lies. He didn't have to and didn't want to, but Bucky still couldn't make the call. "Ugh, just fucking call him already, Barnes!" He yelled, startling some birds out of a nearby tree.

"I’m not sure who you aren’t calling, but I’m not sure your phone was designed for that kind of abuse.”

Bucky jumped and spun around. The man from the convention, the one with purple bangs, was eying him with a bemused expression. Composing himself, Bucky placed a name to the face and smiled. “Sorry. Clint, right?”

“Yeah. Just came in to get my hearing aids adjusted. Though if everyone talked as loudly as you, I probably wouldn’t need them. So what’re you not calling Steve about?”

Bucky laughed, even though he was a bit nervous about it now. “I just wanted to see if he wanted to meet up after my thing here.”

“Doesn’t seem like that’d be a big issue to call about, but if it’s that hard, I could call him for you. I’m sure whatever it is, he won’t mind.”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll call him when I’m done. I’ve got to go to my own appointment, but it was nice meeting you again.” Bucky turned and hurried inside before Clint could ask any more questions. _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ Bucky chided himself. Shoving his phone into his pocket, Bucky walked up to the counter to fill out the last of the paperwork.

~~~  
Steve was humming happily to himself as he drew. After Thursday, things seemed to be going much better between him and Bucky. Not that he was hearing wedding bells in their future anytime soon, but… well, it had been good. Progress.

He was almost done with the page he was working on when his phone rang. He was surprised to see Clint’s number, since Clint didn’t usually like talking on the phone. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey, Steve. This is probably none of my business, but I think you should come down to the hospital.”

Steve frowned, worried. “Is everything okay?”

“With me, yeah. But I just saw your guy go in and he looked a bit nervous. Look, just trust me, okay? Come down.”

“I’ll be right there. Which hospital?”

He wrote down the address Clint gave him quickly, then hurried to throw on decent clothes. He threw a few things into a backpack, then hurried out. 

It took him about an hour to get to the hospital. Clint was already gone, but Steve didn’t mind. He wouldn’t have asked Clint to wait around anyway, not when Steve didn’t know how long the wait would be. He locked up his bike and started heading towards the visitor entrance when he spotted Tony. The other man was carrying a long, metal case and Steve wondered what was going on. He ran over. 

“Tony, what is going on?”

Tony looked over at it, irritated. “I’m running late, dorito. Got a surgery to attend.”

“Surgery? Tony, what…”

The man stopped and glared at Steve. “Look, Steve. I have not had a good couple of nights. Working with my father is enough to make me want to kill a man. In less than an hour, your boyfriend will be in surgery and I have stuff I need to prepare. Now if you’ll excuse me, go be worried in the waiting room like a normal husband.”

Tony brushed by Steve quickly, leaving steve feeling breathless. Surgery? Is this what Bucky was referring to when he said he had plans for the weekend. But surgery for what?

It clicked a second later. The case. Bucky’s prosthetic. That was it. It had to be. They were replacing it. That was the only thing that made sense. Thinking about their day and nights together, Steve recalled how Bucky tended to favor that side a bit. He hadn’t really thought about it, but it must have been hurting him.

Turning, Steve headed back to the visitor’s entrance. He didn’t need to ask why Bucky had hid it from him. Bucky had told him he didn’t like being fussed over and treated like an invalid. He had to know that Steve wouldn’t do that, but Steve was all too aware of how habits worked.

He walked up to the front desk. “Excuse me, ma’am. I’m looking for the patient’s rooms. I’m visiting a friend. He had surgery on his arm today.”

Without looking up, the nurse gestured vaguely toward the elevator. “Third floor, go right once you get off,” she said, then went back to her work.

Steve shook his head and walked over to the elevators. He passed a giftshop and paused, then grinned. Ten minutes later, he was sticking a small deck of cards in his pocket and getting on the elevator.

~~~  
Bucky closed his eyes, but he could still feel the vibrations rattling in his head. He was awake for the surgery, but only because his parents had warned him about an intolerance to anesthetics. He didn’t remember himself, but they told him that he’d stopped breathing when they’d operated on him as a child.

So here he was, wide awake and completely discomforted by the sensations. They’d given him an epidural instead, so he couldn’t feel the pain at least. He felt removed from himself, almost like this surgery was happening to someone else, and it gave him time to think.

It wouldn’t be long before he’d feel more whole than he had in a long time. There had been too many years of feeling angry at the world and trying to hide the anger behind a smile and a confidence he didn’t quite feel. Too many years of trying to pretend he wasn’t really crippled, trying to do things he shouldn’t.

He’d never turned to drugs, but drinking… He remembered how he would count the times when he knew his family would be gone for an extended period and he’d bring out the strongest liquor his dad owned. He’d never drink more than a glass, but it was Russian vodka. A glass was more than enough.

And there had been a guy back then too. It was never love between the two of them. Just need. Bucky needed to feel useful and the other guy just needed, well, release. 

Among Bucky’s family, the oldest of his sisters was the only one to see through the mask he wore. It was actually Rebecca who had finally convinced Bucky to go to college and live on his own. And it had helped a bit.

Now though, Bucky had Steve. Steve didn’t make Bucky feel useless. He didn’t expect Bucky to always be smiling. Just thinking about it put a smile on Bucky’s face. How would his life have been different if he’d never lost contact with Steve? It probably would have been a lot better.

There was a hand on his shoulder and Bucky opened his eyes and looked at the doctor. 

“Try moving your fingers.”

With difficulty, Bucky looked over and concentrated on moving the fingers on the new appendage. The silver metal alloy gleamed under the bright surgery light. The fingers moved a bit and the doctor nodded, satisfied. Bucky looked further up the arm, to where it met skin. There, the metal was covered in blood, reminding him of the accident when he’d received the injury. 

They shouldn’t have been playing on the abandoned train car, especially not with all the debris laying around. They were trespassing and there were signs announcing danger all around. But they were young and stupid and his friend had dared Bucky to climb to the top of the train and Bucky wasn’t about to say no. The fact that it was almost winter hadn’t helped. The top of the train had been icy. Bucky thought he had a grip, but he didn’t and he’d fallen… right into a tangle of old, rusted barbed wire. That wasn’t what had cost him his arm though. It had been the equally rusty hacksaw that neither boy had noticed in all the junk.

By the time help had arrived, it had already been too late to save the arm, but Bucky was lucky to have his life. And even if they had been annoying about it for a while, he had been lucky to have a family that supported him. He’d just been a stupid, angry teenager that became a stupid, angry adult. 

“Almost done,” he heard Tony say quietly in his ear. “Just keep thinking about lover boy.”

Bucky smiled. “Make me call him later,” he said quietly back. “Even if you have to dial the number and force me to take the phone.”

Tony chuckled. “You got it.”

Bucky let his mind wander to Steve, still trying to ignore the sensations that he couldn’t quite feel. Steve, who never expected Bucky to be anything but himself. Steve was passionate and gentle all at the same time. Bucky thought of that night, the two of them entwined in the sheets, fighting for dominance, but mindful of each other’s needs. 

Bucky saw it clearly now, how a weight had been lifted from his own shoulders that night. It was a weight of his own making, but somehow Steve had helped him get rid of it. With a smile, Bucky whispered quietly, “I love you, Steve.”

~~~  
Bucky wasn’t aware he’d passed out until he woke to a slight shifting of the table. No, he wasn’t on the operating table anymore. He was in bed and someone was sitting on the edge. He cracked his eyes open and saw Steve sitting there, watching him.

“Steve, what’re you…”

“Clint called me. And Tony filled in the rest. Sort of.” Steve smiled at him. “It’s okay. So, new arm, huh?”

Blinking, Bucky looked over at the metal arm. “Oh, yeah.” He moved to sit up, wincing a bit. 

“Tony said to tell you that you’d be sore for a while, but everything went smoothly. I don’t think he expected you to fall asleep on the operating table,” Steve grinned. 

The grin was infectious and it wasn’t long before Bucky was smiling back at him. “Well, I haven’t been getting much sleep otherwise. I mean, you alone kept me up all Thursday night.”

Steve laughed at that. “Well I can’t argue with that. So talk to me, Buck. I don’t have to guess what prompted the new arm.” Steve reached over to run a hand down it, almost like a caress.

Bucky placed his right hand over Steve’s. “I’d decided on this before I met you again. Tony and his dad have been working on better prosthetics. It’s supposed to function like a real arm. I mean, it has it’s limitations, and it’s still…”

Steve cut Bucky off with a kiss. “It’s great,” he said. “And if you want me to, I’ll be there with you during your physical therapy. Or I can support you from afar, but I would really like to be there with you.”

Bucky smiled. “I’m no good at asking for help, but I want you there too, if you think you can handle my crappy attitude.”

“Of course I can. Good and bad, I’ll be there for you. Oh, hey. I thought you might get bored staring at walls all day so….” Steve fished a small rectangular box out of his pocket. As soon as Bucky saw the deck of cards, he started laughing. 

“Just like old times,” he said. “I mean, I could think of better things to do with our time, but I’m sure the doctors would have told me to take it easy.”

“Not to mention a nurse might walk in,” Steve pointed out, setting the deck on the table next to Bucky’s bed.

“Free show for her then,” Bucky teased.

“And a lawsuit for you.”

Laughing, Bucky leaned back. “You’re right. That’s Tony’s job anyway, getting lawsuits from attractive young women. Besides, I want to keep you to myself.”

“Well, I can’t say that I want to share you either, but…” Steve stopped and looked at Bucky, curious. “Are you saying you want…”

“I’m saying I love you,” Bucky blurted out before he could make up some stupid excuse for not saying it. “I’m saying you’re the only one I want and I don’t want to let anyone else have you.”

Steve stared at him for a long moment, then broke into a grin. “I’m glad. In that case, you definitely won’t be able to get rid of me.”

“Good. In that case, we can explore later. Get the deck and deal the cards. I need to beat you at Go Fish again.”

Steve laughed and grabbed the deck, settling in at the foot of Bucky’s bed. Just like old times.

**Author's Note:**

> I really had a lot of encouragement writing this fic from my friends in the SHJW* writer's group. Special thanks go to [type_40_consulting_detective](http://archiveofourown.org/users/type_40_consulting_detective), [beltainefaerie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/beltainefaerie), [beautifullyheeled](http://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifullyheeled), and [simply_isnt_on](http://archiveofourown.org/users/simply_isnt_on) who beta'ed this for me, but everyone there gets credit cause they're all awesome.
> 
> Posting the chapters will be a bit slow since I am in my busy time at work, so go ahead and subscribe for updates.
> 
> <3 you all.


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